Flaming Angel
by Rainbow Stevie
Summary: Johnny acts like she's an angel when she's really just a wreck of a human being, and that discrepancy is why Marissa pushes him away and clings to Ryan. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: If I owned the O.C., there would be no more sex, drinking, or drug usage on the screen. However, it belongs to more influential people, unrelated to me. Josh Schwartz comes to mind.

Summary: _Johnny acts like she's an angel when she's really just a wreck of a human being, and that discrepancy is why Marissa pushes him away and clings to Ryan._

Notes: I was channel-flipping between OC and CSI last February, unsure of whether I was more annoyed with Johnny's death on the former or Lady Heather's existence on the latter, but fortunately I caught the two scenes with the necklace in 3x14 "Heavy Lifting." Always knew I could use that someday. Grievous errors in canon can be fixed upon notification; I watch the series somewhat spottily due to the things mentioned in my disclaimer. Hope you enjoy my first OC story.

"**Flaming Angel"**

Marissa used to think she was a real troublemaker; stole her parents' alcohol and got high at parties, even let Luke's hands creep beneath her shirt sometimes on late nights in the car. The three sins every teenage girl flirts with, nothing unremarkable there. Those problems haven't gone away, but the days when those were her _only_ problems are so far behind, so comparatively simple, she feels like an ex-con reminiscing about childhood. Marissa wishes she were still rebelling against her happily married parents and pony-loving kid sister, sneaking out of the sixteen-room mansion at night after having a bad day because she couldn't find her favorite lip gloss when the housekeeper moved it.

Her mother found her sitting on the edge of the bed with Johnny's necklace in hand, gripping its central figure, a golden angel, in rigid fist. The tears on her cheeks had long since dried, to be replaced with the same numbness that held her prisoner before.

"That's a pretty necklace. Is it from Ryan?" Julie asked in what she hoped was an understanding and conversational tone, still unsure of how to approach her daughter. It didn't work; Marissa's hold on the piece only tightened more, and her eyes continued to stare dead ahead, now accompanied by a flat, icy voice. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Honey, I just think--"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Please don't be like this. Dinner's ready. Are you going to eat?"

No, Marissa was not going to eat. Marissa didn't eat in times of crisis. Not that her mother noticed. She appeared to have scheduled exactly twelve hours of sympathetic mourning before turning her full attention back to Dr. Roberts and her frivolous party plans.

"I'll put a plate in the fridge," came the defeated sigh, and she was alone again. Only then did she give in to the pain from the wings digging into her palms and open her hand. The pendant had, in fact, left an identical red copy firmly pressed into her skin, temporarily branding her. The outline was vivid and mocking.

"_An angel…he said that's what you were to him."_ But even if Sadie hadn't told her that, she would have known. She'd already known. Caught the way he gazed at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

Not the appraising looks her body usually drew from guys. The complete opposite of the outright leers she got from Volchok and gang. Even Ryan was aware of his girlfriend's attributes, and still checked her out once in a while, like when she'd worn the red dress with a neckline that plunged to her navel, and watched his tongue fall to the floor.

Johnny's looks were different. He acted as if she were purer than water itself; his eyes lit up whenever he spoke to her. He cared about so much more beyond the surface, and was more thoughtful than anyone she'd ever met.

Like the amethyst and topaz framing either side of the angel. Ryan probably doesn't know his own birthstone, much less hers. It's not something she blames him for; he's a guy. Guys aren't expected to know things like that. And yet she's not surprised to learn Johnny had gone out of his way to customize the gift for her. It's just how he is. Just…different.

She had tried to think of a way to explain it to Summer, once, but she couldn't simplify the words for anyone besides herself, so they had never left her tongue.

Johnny sees her as an angel because he's angelic himself. Try as she might, she can't reconcile what he's told her about his past, can't see him standing over an abusive father he's beaten to within an inch of his life. His eyes are too soft, too gentle, to be haunted the way hers are. And despite what she tells him, he doesn't see the real her, either. It protects both of them if she doesn't let him.

Ryan is flawed, not as badly as her but still far from perfect, and that imperfection is why they work. All their chinks and broken bits fit together and hold them fast to one another. Johnny's soul is more like a smooth glass sheet, and the only way her damaged one can find a handhold is to rip out pieces of his.

Besides, if she willingly throws away her relationship with Ryan, it's just another casualty on the highway, and it's inconceivable that she and Johnny would stay together in the long run. Things don't work like that in Marissa's life, not since Ryan moved to town and the world as she knew it began eroding out from under her. People hurt her and she hurts them back. Eventually he'll figure out that the light he sees framing her from behind isn't a golden ray from heaven at all, but just the flaming wreckage of her life. Until then, he's only worshipping illusion.

Marissa clung to this rationalization for months on end, pretending not to realize that Ryan's grip on her was losing strength as she drifted, never noticing that the more time she spent with Johnny, the less trouble she got into. No police. Couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten smashed. Those things weren't what made Ryan love her, but he was part of that life, however unintentionally. Much as she loved being with him, sometimes she wanted to leave that life behind. Then she went to be with Johnny, where board games could serve as Friday night entertainment and grilled cheese sandwiches gourmet (even though she blackened hers on two attempts until she was gently steered away from the stove). It was only a friendship, after all. It was still in Ryan's arms that she wanted to be held, Ryan whom she wanted to kiss her goodnight on the beach. As long as she believed that, she could ignore Johnny's looks, no matter how wounded or beseeching.

…until the day she went with him without first remembering to close the cage around her heart, and something escaped that couldn't be recaptured. Too dangerous to leave on the loose, too dangerous to chase after, she let go what she could no longer control and locked the door behind instead. Frightened by the intensity and uncertainty of _almost_, she wrote Johnny a letter to reinforce the bar. It was an attempt to prevent greater damage, like slapping a child's wrist to keep him from touching a hot stove. A futile effort, when you've left a box of matches on the table.

In the end it wasn't Johnny who'd been mistaken, who recognized the light for what it was too late. She considers, not for the first time, the option of suicide – then half-smiles at the layers of irony and just as quickly drops the idea. No, suicide isn't a viable option anymore. All that's left is prolonged, painful endurance.

A few wrecks never closed a highway forever.


End file.
